


lovestain

by jokheiz



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, And they were neighbours, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bars and Pubs, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, M/M, Nobody is Dead, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Secret Identity, Slow Burn, dotae best friends, making meals as a love language, side johnil, side tenwin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:00:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29476614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jokheiz/pseuds/jokheiz
Summary: "I’m just trying to wrap my head around how terrified I am at how much you care about me.”Taeyong’s trying to finish the puzzle that’s his life, only Yuta bent the last piece so it doesn’t fit right anymore.
Relationships: Lee Taeyong/Nakamoto Yuta
Comments: 29
Kudos: 84





	lovestain

**Author's Note:**

> For Nathy <3
> 
> ADDITIONAL TW's:  
> \- gagging, vomiting  
> \- blood  
> \- wounds  
> \- car crash  
> \- questionable medical methods im not a doctor and i didnt want to look it up deal with it  
> \- anxiety attacks  
> \- cowboy country night. no i'm not sorry about it.
> 
> Title is from[ José González's Lovestain ](https://open.spotify.com/track/3uOxi3XD2dfSlUy3q1r73V?si=TRR8xHbRRHaUY-TmTih6BQ)

> Love is… terrifying.
> 
> It seems like something that just kind of happens one day. You wake up, go through your routine, go to work, whatever, and then that person just says or does something, or maybe you’re thinking of that time they did or said something and then it’s like— _Oh. I love you._
> 
> But if you think about it, it’s been a long time, hasn’t it? It crept in, took a place in your life, and just started laying down foundation. Through the agreements, the disagreements, you’ve seen the worst and the best, and even through everything, you realize, they’re still your favourite.
> 
> ~~It’s absolutely fucking terrifying.~~

Taeyong bites the end of his pen and strikes through the last sentence he wrote. He definitely can’t swear in an official blogpost but it was the current dramaticism he was going for while writing down this idea.

“Tae _yong_ ,” Johnny whines from the doorway of Taeyong’s apartment, one foot in and one foot out. “Let’s go, _please_.”

“Just let me write this down.” Inspired moments were often fleeting and Taeyong hates letting them go when they take over.

“ _Taeyong_.”

“We know Taeil is working all night Johnny, we have time. You’ll see him.”

Taeyong ignores the audible grumble and starts writing in jot notes.

>   * Love can ~~fuck~~ mess you up
>   * Someone can become a part of you without them even knowing
>   * Not just romantic love
>   * Need more positive descriptors sprinkled in why am I so negative
> 


“Oh, hi! You must be Taeyong’s new neighbour!”

Taeyong’s flow is swiftly cut off and replaced with ice, dropping his pen on his desk as Johnny decides that embarrassment is what’s going to get him to hurry his ass up. Taeyong hates that it works.

“I’m Johnny, Taeyong’s best friend. He lives here, he’s kind of quiet but if you ever need anything he has it, so just knock on his door whenever, alright?”

“Fuck Johnny, I’m ready, okay? Let’s go, god.” Taeyong pushes Johnny out of his apartment, swiftly locking the door as it closes behind them. He looks across the hall, where the door is propped open by a box of someone just moving in. A man stands beside it—a good-looking man, _dammit Johnny_ —and for a lack of anything better to say, Taeyong just dips his head and says sorry, roughly smacking Johnny’s back to get him moving down the hall like a giant dumb horse. He’s neither dumb nor a horse, but it makes Taeyong feel better.

“He was cute,” Johnny says in the elevator.

“Fuck you.” _Giant dumb horse_.

Some people might call it friend-night, or bar-night—a certain time of the week where you hang out with those same people at that same location. Taeyong calls it third-wheel-night, AKA hanging out with Johnny and Taeil at the pub Taeil works at on a Tuesday night. It’s always a slow night on Tuesdays, which means Johnny has Taeil’s attention for most of it and can watch him with hearts in his eyes the few times he doesn’t. Taeyong goes to laugh at him, mostly. Also because Taeil makes really good cocktails.

It’s late when Taeyong gets back to his apartment building. It’s not a complete shock to see someone in the lobby, already waiting for the elevator. Taeyong twirls his keys on his finger as he follows them in when the door opens. He promptly drops them when he realizes it’s his new neighbour, the cute one Johnny embarrassed him in front of earlier.

Picking his keys up and turning an unflattering shade of red, Taeyong decides he only has one chance to reassure this man that it really is Johnny who’s the weird one, Taeyong just gets caught up in it.

“Uhm, I just want to say, sorry for my friend earlier.”

The elevator dings as it opens on their floor and Taeyong’s never really realized how short the ride is. Taeyong can’t see his neighbour's face as they walk down the hall but he can hear the laughter in the man’s voice when he says, “it’s okay.”

Taeyong nods to nobody—himself, maybe—”I, uh, never got your name?”

The man starts unlocking his door, letting out a full laugh. The back of his head is attractive too, with his black fluffy hair that reaches the middle of his nape. “Yeah, Johnny never asked.”

Even when he’s not around Taeyong is forced to deal with the consequences of Johnny’s actions. Taeyong wants to disintegrate. “Yeah, he was doing it to torture me. He’s… like that. Sorry.”

The man opens his door and turns back towards Taeyong, resting his arm and leaning on the entryway—textbook hot guy pose, Taeyong’s seen Johnny do it before, but it’s less infuriating when this man does it.

“I’m Yuta.”

Taeyong takes a deep breath through his nose. “Well, it’s nice to meet you Yuta. If you ever need anything—”

“Knock on the door,” Yuta doesn’t physically wink but he doesn’t have to, his words do it for him with a slanted smile. “I know.”

Taeyong laughs, scratching the back of his head and turning towards his own apartment door before the current shade of red he sports can deepen into an even uglier one.

It’s been raining all day, and while that makes the environment at work a little less hectic, a little more peaceful, Taeyong still itches to get home. 

“Wow, look at you rubber ducky.” Doyoung comments on Taeyong’s bright yellow rain jacket he puts on when work ends, combined with an orange cap he’d hurriedly put on that morning instead of doing his hair. Definitely not his best outfit.

“I don’t think that’s the insult you think it is, Doyoung.” Donghyuck scoffs. “You look cute, Taeyong.”

Taeyong cooes and Doyoung rolls his eyes as he puts on his boring, regular old jacket. “He’s just buttering you up to try out a new recipe for him.”

Taeyong perks up. “You got something new for me?”

“Yup! I’ve had it in the works for a while but it’s a meal for a day like today, you know? I want the Taeyong stamp of approval before I write it up for the website.” Donghyuck explains, typing away at his phone. “There, I just sent it to you.”

Taeyong pulls his phone out of his pocket just as it pings. He opens the e-mail and skims the ingredients of a hearty stew he can’t wait to try. Other than himself, Donghyuck is the only person he trusts to make good food.

“I’ll send you pictures and my review later tonight.” Taeyong smiles, even more excited to get home. He bids his coworkers goodbye and drives away from the building that holds the small but mighty headquarters of NeoNews, the hottest upcoming news and blogging site. At least, that’s what the other news and blogging sites refer to them as, when they’re not stealing ideas or content.

He quickly pops into the grocery store to buy some meat, tofu, and extra bean sprouts. He has the rest of the ingredients Donghyuck’s listed so he heads home, leaves his wet shoes outside his door to dry, and gets started on his dinner.

When everything’s at a nice lull, a good simmer, Taeyong putters around his apartment. He collects rainwater from his balcony and saves it for his plants. He jots down some ideas for his next advice column-esque blogpost about the transition between teenagehood and adulthood.

Their readers seem to like what Taeyong has to say, so they’ve been sending in more and more questions. Taeyong likes writing about his experiences, moreso with a fake NeoNews persona he can hide behind too. People know him but they don’t know it’s _him_. He likes it like that. Unlike Doyoung who is on-screen talent in their videos, Taeyong likes being behind the scenes, likes being the unseen hero when the company does well or goes viral.

The air is warm and thick with the scent of kimchi, meat, freshly made rice, veggies, the whole lot. It makes Taeyong salivate. Before getting clogged up in his brain thinking about his dinner, he goes out to fetch his shoes, which had to be dry by now.

When Taeyong opens the door, he stops. In the middle of the hallway in the space between their doors is Yuta, just standing and staring off ahead of him. He reminds Taeyong of the phrase _‘deer in headlights’_ while also simultaneously looking like he wants to laugh at himself. It seems like a great moment to turn red, and Taeyong is a little resentful when he doesn’t.

Taeyong bends down to collect his shoes. When he straightens up, Yuta is watching him.

“It smells… really good.”

Taeyong can’t help but swell with pride. Did he mention he’s a good cook? He’s a very good cook.

“Thank you,” and because his mother was a good woman and raised him right, he adds, “would you like some?”

Yuta hesitates. It’s almost as if he wants to be anywhere but here, which is an odd reaction to someone offering you food that smells so good it makes your mouth water.

“I’m making a lot,” Taeyong prompts. “I’ll have leftovers either way.”

With a small shake of his head, Yuta says, “No, it’s fine, really.”

This bothers Taeyong. He wants to boast about being a good cook and he can’t do that if Yuta won’t eat it. Every person that thinks Taeyong’s cooking is good just adds to his credibility as Donghyuck’s recipe tester and he decides he wants to be stubborn and not lose this one out. (And because then Taeyong would be ‘Yuta’s neighbour, the really good cook’ and not ‘Yuta’s neighbour, the awkward one with the weird best friend.’)

“Are you sure? I think you’re drooling. It’s really okay if you want some.” Taeyong opens his front door wider, so more of the smell can waft out. He sends a silent apology to Mrs. Jung down the hall, whose kids have never been satisfied with a meal she made after Taeyong looked after them that one night.

In the end, it’s actually quite easy to lure Yuta into his apartment. The man clearly wants the food so Taeyong doesn’t understand why Yuta even tried to put up a semblance of a fight when offered. He should make it easier on himself next time and just say yes.

“You can sit down anywhere if you want.” Taeyong gestures to the table and the living room, filled with Johnny and Donghyuck approved comfy chairs and couch. “Or you can stand and hover if you like watching magic happen.”

Taeyong’s guess is right, of course, he recognizes the urge to hover and watch in Yuta because he’s guilty of it too (as Doyoung likes to point it out, all the time).

He cooks the stew and takes pictures of the process for Donghyuck, in case he wants to use them for his eventual write-up. Taeyong actually gets Yuta to help out, letting him have free reign in Taeyong’s fridge to pick out whichever and however many side dishes he wants to go with it. Taeyong makes sure to write them all down (for Donghyuck).

As nerve-wracking as it may be to have someone new in your home, Taeyong is more confident in his cooking than he is in his writing and that’s what pushes him through to not overthinking the whole ‘there is a stranger in my home’ part of inviting Yuta in. Scratch that, ‘there is a hot, mysterious stranger in my home.’

Dinner is a little over the top, to say the least. The setup is extravagant with the stew sitting in the middle of the table, plates of meat on either side, and the side dishes placed all around it. Taeyong and Yuta each have an empty bowl across from each other with a side of rice. It’s perfect and Taeyong manages to get an overhead photo that Donghyuck would be a fool not to use.

They sit at the table and fill their bowls. Yuta only takes a bite once Taeyong has, and then he eats like it’s the first time he’s used his taste buds.

“This is so good,” Yuta groans. “I don’t think I’ve had a home-cooked meal in _years_.”

Taeyong purses his lips into a small pout. Living a life on takeout or pre-made meals isn’t much of a good life at all, he thinks. “I could teach you. Whenever something smells good just come over, you’re always welcome. Unless my mother is here—she doesn’t like to share.”

Yuta chuckles through a mouthful of rice but doesn’t say anything more on Taeyong’s quite generous offer. At least he’s (hopefully) turned Yuta’s opinion of him into a good one.

If Johnny describes Taeyong as quiet then Taeyong would describe Yuta as closed off. It’s intriguing, to say the least. Taeyong suddenly understands why he himself gets surrounded by extroverts or introverted-extroverts that want to figure him out. He wants to get to know who this handsome stranger is too.

When dinner is over Yuta helps with the dishes. When they’re done, Taeyong takes a deep breath and decides to take a leap.

“My friends and I are hanging out at this pub we go to if you’re looking for something to do this weekend. Don’t feel obligated to say yes though, just because I fed you or anything. It’s cool.” He doesn’t know if Yuta is new to town or what, but he knows it’s always nice to meet people in the area. It makes living on your own a little less lonely, he finds.

“Ah, I have work, so I can’t,” Yuta says with a genuine smile. Taeyong can’t tell if the gesture is appreciated. “But thank you for the meal.”

Taeyong’s shoulders slump involuntarily. He can’t help but be a tiny bit disappointed, despite understanding. It’s quite difficult to work around Taeil’s job when he doesn’t work a regular eight to four or nine to five like the rest of them, but they get around that by quite literally hanging out at his workplace.

Taeyong packs up two-thirds of the leftovers and shoves them into Yuta’s arms, not taking no for an answer. If the man is going to reheat food anyway, at least it’ll be good food. 

Yuta thanks him again and Taeyong opens the door for him. “Don't be a stranger,” he calls out as he watches Yuta cross the hall to his door.

Yuta only pauses to look back and smile, then disappears into his own apartment.

Taeyong takes a very generous and hopefully annoying sip of his melon ball cocktail as he stares at Johnny, who has been so preoccupied with watching Taeil he stopped listening to Taeyong’s story when he was only a quarter through. Even when Taeyong notices and stops talking, Johnny is too busy in dream world, elbows on the bartop with his face resting in his hands. He sighs and Taeyong kicks him.

“ _Ow_ ,” Johnny hisses, and then he apologizes without Taeyong having to explain anything. He knows what he’s done wrong, he does it all the damn time. “Sorry, sorry, you know this is my biggest flaw.”

Taeyong snorts, popping one of the melon balls off the toothpick that rests on top of his drink into his mouth. 

Fortunately, it’s not just them two tonight, Sicheng soon comes to sit beside Taeyong to save him, though Taeyong starts to think differently of that later.

Taeil makes Sicheng’s favourite drink without him even having to order, because he’s the favourite friend, and Sicheng takes a sip and sighs, unraveling the tension in his shoulders.

“So, I’m having a birthday party this year and I guess I’m obligated to tell you all you’re invited or whatever.”

Taeyong frowns. “You never have a birthday party.”

Johnny obnoxiously slurps his drink and Taeil busies himself making another one.

Sicheng’s shoulders tense again and he winces like he’s in pain. “Yeah, uhm, I kind of have to tell you something? I should’ve told you earlier, I’m sorry.”

Taeyong waits, expecting the worst.

Sicheng’s stare could burn a hole into the wooden bar if it could. “I’m kind of… dating Ten. Not kind of, really, dating Ten. For a little while now. A few months?”

The worst, as Taeyong expected.

Not that it was the end of the world or anything. He couldn’t say he and Ten’s breakup had been horrible but it hadn’t been great either. He hadn’t seen or spoken to Ten in a long time, and he didn’t really have a desire to. It makes perfect sense that Ten would be the one to finally convince Sicheng to have a birthday party. Ten was nothing without his big, loud gatherings.

“Oh, that’s cool.” Taeyong wishes his drink was endless so it would give him a reason not to take his lips off the straw. This is reality though, and Taeyong finishes his melon ball and Taeil is on the other side of the bar, helping another customer, no doubt avoiding the conversation as is Johnny, who has suddenly disappeared to the bathroom.

Sicheng finally looks at Taeyong then, and he really does look sorry. Not for dating Ten, but for having to subject Taeyong to this. Taeyong appreciates that at least. 

“I just… wanted to warn you. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to—you don’t have to be my friend anymore if you don’t want—I mean, I’d really like it if you were, I’d miss you so bad—but if you—”

“Stop.” Taeyong leans over and holds one of Sicheng’s hands in both of his. His dear, sweet friend. “Of course I’ll still be your friend and of course I’ll come. There’s no hard feelings here Sichengie, really.”

Taeyong is sucked into Sicheng’s big, round puppy eyes. He has that effect on everyone, even strangers. Everyone wants to be by Sicheng’s side and no one wants to leave it. It’d almost impossible to leave him, especially if he doesn’t want you to. It’s some kind of superpower, Taeyong thinks.

“Really? I’m glad!” Sicheng relaxes again and Taeyong does too, the feeling of warmth Sicheng gives him overpowers the seed of dread that’s now planted in his stomach. “You can bring a plus one! You should bring a plus one.”

“So when’s the party?” Johnny’s back, having skillfully avoided the conversation. Taeyong glares at him anyway. He probably knew about Sicheng and Ten already, not that it was his place to tell Taeyong. Glaring just feels like the right thing to do, even if Johnny doesn’t even spare him a glance. He knows, though.

“My birthday’s on a Monday but we’re going to have the party two days before, on Saturday. 'So everyone can get drunk if they want,' is what Ten said. You have it booked off, right Taeil?”

Taeil smiles. “Of course.” Taeyong’s pretty sure he hears Johnny sigh wistfully, not even having the basic decency to hide it.

“ _Doyoung_ ,” Taeyong whines.

“Whatever you’re about to ask me, the answer is definitely no.”

Taeyong pouts, widens his eyes, and looks up with his best pleading face, one that has gathered infamy around the office. What Taeyong wants, Taeyong gets.

“No.” Doyoung doesn’t even look at him. He fixes his hair in the reflection of his computer monitor before he’s due on set to film a video of a deep dive into the history of aromatherapy.

Taeyong crosses his arms over his chest and slinks further into his office chair. “You don’t even know what I’m about to say.”

“You’re about to ask me to be your plus one to Sicheng’s birthday because, as always, you’ve forgotten I’m not just a work friend and I am actually also friends with Sicheng.”

“You never come to hang out, that’s why.” Taeyong grumbles. “You’re always away.”

“Which is why I can’t go this weekend, I’m at a conference.” Doyoung sighs. “Wish I could though, I have a few choice words for some people.”

Taeyong too is suddenly glad Doyoung can’t come after all. He’s not feeling great about what he’s going to walk into but what he wants the least is any sort of confrontation. 

“Find someone else around the office or something.” Doyoung ends up suggesting.

“You know I can’t bring Donghyuck.”

“We have more people here than just you, me, and Donghyuck.”

Taeyong groans long and loud, letting Doyoung know he’s not happy about this, even though it’s completely his own fault.

Doyoung shrugs his shoulders, grabs his script from his desk, and says, “not my problem.” A chilling reminder that he is also good friends with Johnny.

There’s a liquor store a short walk away from Taeyong’s apartment, so he heads down there and browses. He picks up a bottle of red wine, then, after much deliberation, a bottle of vodka. Satisfied with his choices, he turns down an aisle to get to the cash register, barely paying attention to the person browsing in it until they meet eyes. 

“Yuta!” Taeyong exclaims. He doesn’t mean to say it so excitedly, but it had actually been weeks since he’d seen his neighbour, since they’d had dinner together. It was almost as if there hasn’t been anyone who had moved in at all, it had been so quiet.

“Hi,” Yuta smiles. He, on the other hand, doesn’t look very surprised to Taeyong. Though it makes sense to bump into your neighbour in a store so close to your home. Taeyong tries not to think of this as embarrassing, else he face his horrible consequence of turning red in front of Yuta, _again_.

“I haven’t seen you in a while.” Taeyong winces internally. He’s really starting to become his mother.

“Yeah, my work takes me away a lot.” Yuta hums, then looks at what Taeyong has in his hands. He raises a brow and Taeyong feels the heat rise in his cheeks already. “What’s the occasion?”

Taeyong holds up the bottle of wine in one hand. “This is a present for my friend's birthday party,” then he holds up the bottle of vodka, “This is for _after_ the birthday party that is for my friend, hosted by my ex because I’ve just found out that they’re dating.”

Yuta grimaces and seems sympathetic to Taeyong’s cause. “Oof, that sucks.”

“Yeah,” Taeyong nods, more to himself than to Yuta. It did suck, and on top of that he didn’t have a plus one to distract himself with—he knows Johnny is going to be all over Taeil, Renjun might be a good bet but Taeyong’s pretty sure he’s bringing his boyfriend so he’ll still be a third wheel wherever he goes. 

Taeyong inhales, ready to sigh, but then stops himself short. He exhales his words all at once. “Heydoyouwannacomewithme?”

Yuta stares at him. A hot blush makes Taeyong’s skin tingle. It’s so much easier to invite someone somewhere when you’re trying to prove your cooking prowess. This request was just ‘I know we don’t know each other but please save me from my doom,’ which, Taeyong is acutely aware, is a lot to ask of someone.

Taeyong takes a deep breath and repeats himself. “Do you want to come with me? It’s fine if you can’t. I would just really appreciate a distraction while I’m there.”

Yuta’s face is blank, which Taeyong is realizing is something he’s really good at, not showing any particular emotion except the fact that he’s listening.

The previous rejection is hot in Taeyong’s mind, thinking of when he asked Yuta to the bar. That hadn’t been his fault of course, he’d had work, but it was still—was Taeyong being too much? 

“Alright. I’ll go.”

Taeyong wrestles the bottles from his hands into his arms. The probability of them slipping and shattering on the ground with how sweaty his palms are is too high for his liking. “Really? You’re sure?” 

That makes Yuta laugh. “Are you trying to get me to say no now?”

At least his skin isn’t on fire anymore, Taeyong thinks, and he can actually laugh at himself a little in this moment. “No! Of course not. Thank you.” Taeyong finally registers that Yuta himself is holding a case of beer under his arms. “What’s your occasion?”

“Rewarding myself for work,” Yuta shrugs and Taeyong follows him to the check-out line.

“Can I ask what you do?”

“You can, but I won’t answer.”

Taeyong’s eyes widen and he angles himself to stand next to Yuta in line instead of behind him. Yuta has the smallest hint of a smile on his face, only evident by the slight uptick of the corner of his mouth, but it’s a smile all the same.

“You’re a secretive government-type then, huh? Are you contractually obligated to not tell me anything about your job? That’s why we never know what’s going on…”

“Yes,” Yuta side glances at Taeyong, still amused for whatever reason. It takes a moment for Taeyong to realize he asked two questions and Yuta only gave one answer.

The line moves forward and Yuta is paying for his case of beer so Taeyong lets it go for now. Yuta finishes and then Taeyong pays for his wine and vodka, delighted when Yuta makes a point of waiting for him. He’s glad that the idea to walk home together is mutual. Common sense, yes, but also mutual.

“So the birthday party is Saturday, since Sicheng’s birthday is on Monday,” Taeyong explains on the short walk home. “You won’t have your secret government work?”

“No, I’m off this week.” Yuta plays along. “My work happens in blocks, so I’ll be there. Unless you don’t want me to.”

“No! I want you to!” Taeyong, again, is at risk of sounding overly excited. They arrive outside their respective apartment doors. “Uh, I’ll just—I’ll meet you out here at five?”

Yuta has at least three states of being that Taeyong’s figured out. The first is the perpetual blank face he seems to wear ninety percent of the time. The second is the state of slight embarrassment from being caught smelling food outside Taeyong’s apartment. The third is his amused-at-however-Taeyong-is-embarrassing-himself state. It’s the one he’s currently doing and one that Taeyong is seeing a lot of more and more. It might be a good thing, he hasn’t decided yet.

“I’ll see you on Saturday.” Yuta smiles.

Taeyong’s quite proud of himself for staying steady the whole ride to Sicheng’s. He could’ve easily just swerved the car and hit a tree and had a perfectly good excuse not to show up to the party, but he promised Sicheng and he also had Yuta in the passenger seat—he figures killing or injuring him wouldn’t be a very neighbourly thing to do.

A quiet entrance into the just beginning party is worthless, Taeyong instantly learns, when Johnny’s the first person that spots them when they enter the unlocked home.

“Hey, it’s Taeyong! And you brought the hot neighbour!”

Taeyong hears Yuta breathe a little harder through his nose—a laugh of sorts and Taeyong can’t believe he’s only taken one step through the goddamn door and he’s already embarrassed. This was a horrible, _horrible_ idea.

“C’mon! Introduce us!”

He does to anyone that is interested (most people are) and Sicheng lights up when he sees that Taeyong has really gone and brought a plus-one. _The poor pup_ , Taeyong thinks, _he was probably fretting about me feeling bad about this_.

“Happy birthday,” Taeyong passes Sicheng the wine bottle that sports a pretty silver bow on the neck and Sicheng gives him a hug and a thanks.

“I’m really glad you came, Taeyong.” Sicheng turns to Yuta. “And you too, Yuta. Thank you for coming with him.”

It could sound condescending from anyone else (see: Johnny) but from Sicheng it comes out genuine, like it’s one of the best presents he’s gotten today. 

When Sicheng leaves to talk to someone else, Yuta releases a breath from beside Taeyong. “Wow, no wonder you couldn’t say no. Those eyes—”

“Right?” Taeyong exclaims. “It’s his superpower or something.”

Yuta’s been introduced to almost everyone at this point—everyone Taeyong knows anyway. There’s Johnny (unfortunately), Taeil, Jaehyun who was Sicheng’s childhood best friend, Kun—the only coworker Taeyong knows of Sicheng’s, and Renjun, Sicheng’s younger brother with his boyfriend Mark. The rest are coworkers Taeyong’s never met and he’s not that interested in making himself known to them, to be honest.

Oh, and then there’s Ten.

He’s kept a good distance from them so far, but Taeyong doesn’t trust that to last. It wasn’t that their breakup was _bad_ , it had just ended really awkwardly and they hadn’t seen or spoken since and it was just—ah, Taeyong wishes he hadn’t come.

Yuta elbows him lightly. They’ve just grabbed a plate of appetizers as dinner because of course Ten decided that an appetizer buffet was a fancy dinner. “Tell me all the gossip then. What good’s a party without the gossip?”

Taeyong relaxes automatically at the touch. He hadn’t even realized how stiff he was in the first place. “Hmm… Well, I’m sure you could tell this just by looking at him, but Johnny’s irrevocably in love with Taeil.”

Yuta snorts. “Yeah, that was kind of obvious.”

“Mark and Renjun… well honestly, Renjun’s kind of a boy-killer, so I’m actually surprised to see Mark still here. Uh, not a literal killer, just the breaker-of-hearts kind. The always-has-a-plethora-of-boys-after-him kind.”

“I got that. Mark must be good for him, then.”

“Yeah, I think he’s one of the only ones Sicheng really liked, so that must be a big reason. I don’t really know a lot of the other people here.” Taeyong scans the room and spots Kun and Jaehyun on the couch, sitting together. “Oh, look at them.”

Yuta takes a bite of a fancy cracker thing (if it’s not a hearty thing Taeyong can cook then he doesn’t care for it) and raises his brows appraisingly. “Shoulders touching together—good sign, good sign. They’ve been talking the whole time.”

Taeyong had noticed that too, only because Ten had been around them a lot and he’d been keeping a wary eye in that direction. Which begs the question—where is Ten now?

“Hi!”

Ah. Speak of the devil.

Taeyong turns, bracing himself. He makes sure to put on a small but convincing enough smile when he meets Ten’s eyes for the first time in—probably a year at this point. “Hey, Ten.”

If Yuta can tell Ten is The Ex, he doesn’t show it. Taeyong hadn’t really briefed him on anything beforehand, other than warning that they’d definitely be talking to each other the whole night because Taeyong didn’t want to risk getting sucked into a third-wheeling conversation—or worse, let Yuta talk to Johnny unsupervised.

Ten gives Taeyong a once-over. “You look good.” It’s genuine, though Taeyong isn’t sure what else he’d been expecting. If there was any time to make a scene—and Ten and Sicheng were serious about each other—Taeyong knows Ten would never do that at an event for his significant other.

Where Taeyong had grown his hair out enough to have it in a tiny ponytail and dyed it a lighter colour, Ten had gone the opposite route—chopping his hair off and going back to black. It worked for him, it put the sharp lines of his jaw, cheekbones, and nose on display, like the art pieces he loved to stare at for so long.

“You too,” Taeyong manages to say. Ten’s attention is quickly turned to Yuta and he gives him a bright smile—again, still genuine.

“You must be Yuta,” Ten holds his hand out. Yuta takes it and Taeyong can only hope there isn’t some weird powerplay thing happening between them right now.

“And you must be the birthday planner boyfriend.”

Ten absolutely lights up at that. “Yes! That’s me! Everything’s good, right? You’re having fun?”

Yuta nods and doesn’t mention the appetizer buffet. “Yeah, yeah, everything’s great, I’m glad Taeyong brought me.”

“Good,” Ten looks between them, a finger vaguely pointing from Yuta to Taeyong. “So when did you two…” 

He trails off, leaves it a question open to interpretation. _Start dating? Meet?_ Panic starts to rise in Taeyong’s throat. 

“We’re neighbours,” Yuta answers without hesitation. Taeyong can’t help but watch him talk, friendly, with no hint of the reservedness he usually had, like it never existed at all. “I just moved in across the hall and I’m new to the area, so I made Taeyong take me out to meet people.”

Taeyong tries not to let his face show his puzzlement but a weight lifts off his shoulders all the same. “I tried to warn him about Johnny.” He manages to make a joke at least, and they all laugh.

“Well, enjoy yourselves,” Ten looks at Taeyong. “And it was nice seeing you.”

“Yeah—” Taeyong begins but Ten’s off before he can even begin to say ‘you too.’

He shoves a piece of bruschetta into his mouth instead and he can hear Yuta chuckle under his breath. Taeyong manages to swallow it down and reaches out to touch Yuta’s elbow. “Thanks for… dealing with that.”

Yuta shrugs. “It’s nothing. I had a feeling he was the ex you mentioned.”

“That obvious?”

Yuta shrugs again.

He’s different from how he was talking to Ten again. It’s like a mask he slips on, except Taeyong doesn’t know which one is real and which one is the mask. Or maybe they’re all different masks.

Everyone at the party is in their own corners, talking, drinking, watching a slideshow of pictures on the TV that Sicheng is embarrassed about. There’s no one to overhear and if there was, they most likely knew the story anyway.

“Ten and I dated for almost two years,” Taeyong says, looking anywhere but Yuta. “One day we were hanging out and I was trying to find the best way to break up with him, while he was trying to find the best way to propose to me. Uh, it didn’t end very well, obviously.”

Taeyong finally looks at Yuta, whose lips are pressed into a thin line and it takes Taeyong a moment to realize he’s trying not to laugh.

“Hey,” Taeyong pushes him lightly, causing smiles to break out on both their faces. “What’s so funny about that?” 

“Nothing! You just seem like you get yourself into some really awkward situations.”

“It _was_ awkward,” Taeyong shudders. “And horrible. I hadn’t seen him since, until today.”

“Guilty?” Yuta prompts and Taeyong nods.

“I felt like shit, doing that to him, putting him through that. I just didn’t think we were on the same page anymore— _clearly_ —and then thought it would be better to just disappear so he wouldn’t have to think about it. Or maybe it was so I wouldn’t have to think about it.” Taeyong lets out a huff. “I can hear that bottle of vodka back home calling my name right now.”

Yuta bursts into laughter and squeezes Taeyong’s arm. It’s strong for such skinny fingers, but it’s even more reassuring.

  
Walking down the hallway to their respective apartments, Taeyong doesn’t think he’s seen Yuta smile more than he has in the last few hours. Granted, he hasn’t seen Yuta a whole lot, considering they just met a few weeks ago and then Yuta had been gone, but it was enough to be noticeable. Taeyong quite liked Yuta’s wide smiles, all bright-white teeth, and sharp laughter that could accompany it.

They get to their doors but Taeyong notices when Yuta hovers by his shoulder, so he turns to meet his eye and is surprised to find Yuta scuffing his feet on the ground, looking a little shy.

“Can I tell you something?”

Taeyong’s breath catches in his throat but he nods. Yuta’s voice was low and unsure, like he’d been debating on saying anything at all.

“It was really fun today.”

“Oh,” Taeyong tries not to make a face. Not what he’d been expecting, but he’s still happy Yuta had a good time, even when Taeyong couldn’t manage to save him from Johnny. “I’m glad you had a good time.”

“Yeah, uh—it’s just,” Yuta stops fidgeting and becomes still. The shyness is gone, wiped away and he now stands firm in his decision to say whatever it is that he wants to say. “You said Sicheng’s birthday is Monday so he had his party early but—today’s actually my birthday.”

Taeyong’s eyes widen.

“I’ve never actually celebrated it before. Even if the party wasn’t for me, so it was still cool to be at something like that. So, thanks for inviting me.”

“We should have a drink!” Taeyong exclaims. “To celebrate!” Neither of them had had a drink at the party so it’s not like they were going to be mixing vodka with wine. It's the perfect situation, really.

“Taeyong, it’s fine,” There was that hesitant Yuta again, the one who always appeared when Taeyong asked him anything. “Really.”

Taeyong’s eyes narrow as he stares Yuta down. “You saw the bottle I have, there’s no way I can ever drink that myself. Come inside.”

He can’t even begin to imagine the conversation happening in Yuta’s head—what makes him so reluctant in some moments and not in others? Of all of Yuta that confused Taeyong, he could at least see there was a bigger picture there to be unearthed. And he kind of wanted to unearth it, if Yuta was willing.

“Okay,” Yuta says with a sigh, though he’s smiling. Taeyong can’t even begin to fathom what that might mean. “Let’s drink.”

Taeyong clenches his fist triumphantly and opens the door to his apartment. He gets out the vodka and a martini mixer and places them on the counter.

“What? Not straight vodka?” Yuta teases.

“Slow down there tiger, I’m a lightweight, you need to go easy on me.”

Taeyong prepares their drinks and they sit on the couch. Taeyong lets Yuta decide what to watch because “on such short notice this is the only other birthday present I can give you. Free reign on my TV.”

They don’t drink a lot, but it’s enough for Taeyong to feel warm. That also might be because Yuta’s thigh is pressed against his, as is his arm. Taeyong’s head, feeling heavier than usual, slumps on top of Yuta’s shoulder, and whether he’d like to admit it or not, Taeyong is undoubtedly too weak to resist his own urge to cuddle into Yuta. He hooks his arm around Yuta’s and lightly—so light maybe he won’t even notice!—traces his fingers over the knobs of Yuta’s knuckles.

Yuta’s fingers are thin and pretty. Upon closer inspection, Taeyong finds they’re littered with tiny scars, which makes them all the more interesting. Taeyong explores them one by one.

Yuta doesn’t seem to mind his touching. He curls into it, even. Taeyong finds it odd, how his words bring him miles away but then he stays so close, like he wants to be here but he thinks he can’t—shouldn’t, maybe.

Maybe Yuta will tell him one day. Taeyong wants to say to him that he can, that it’s okay. Taeyong doesn’t think he would mind waiting either. He likes Yuta. He’d like to know.

Even if he only had one drink this evening, Taeyong decides that it’s enough. He’s tired from so much interaction with other people today, and Yuta is comfortable. Taeyong closes his eyes and his hand falls limp, intertwined with Yuta’s.

“Are you falling asleep on me?”

Taeyong buries his nose into Yuta’s shirt, on the edge of shameless. “Yes.”

Yuta chuckles quietly and it rumbles in his chest. Taeyong can feel wisps of hot breath on his forehead—he has the vague notion that Yuta’s watching him.

“I’m not that drunk,” Taeyong feels the need to clarify. He really _is_ a lightweight, but he’s not about to blackout, collapse, or forget anything. It’s just a good enough buzz to have his body feel like it’s humming pleasantly. “You’re just warm and comfortable.”

Yuta doesn’t say anything, but Taeyong feels a light nudge at the top of his head. It’s gentle, and it gets Taeyong to slowly peel his face out from Yuta’s shirt to look up at him.

Taeyong finds it hard to breathe then, the air thicker than it was a moment ago, his chest constricting as he inhales slowly. Yuta looks down at him through his eyelashes, gaze steady on Taeyong’s lips.

Taeyong angles his chin up, a challenge. The urge and want is almost too overwhelming. He wants to be kissed, he wants Yuta to kiss him, and even with everything about Yuta that makes him so unsure, he knows Yuta wants to kiss him too.

But he doesn't.

Yuta backs down with a small shake of his head, and Taeyong crumbles. Rejection burns at his cheeks and this just adds to his list of ‘times-I-embarrassed-myself-in-front-of-Yuta’ that he really wishes wasn’t a list at all. He tries to pull away, to at least separate them and get some air, but Yuta’s arm wraps around his shoulder and keeps him still.

“Wait, no,” Yuta’s mouth opens and closes. He takes a deep breath and starts again. “I’m sorry, it’s not you— _fuck_ —it’s me.”

Taeyong’s brows dip into a disbelieving frown.

“I know, it sounds dumb, but trust me—fuck, I want to kiss you so bad right now, but I—” Yuta trails off. The arm not wrapped around Taeyong’s shoulders reaches towards him and Yuta caresses his thumb over one of Taeyong’s cheekbones.

“You either kiss me, or you let go of me,” Taeyong says. As gentle as Yuta’s touch is, it’s suffocating. Taeyong either wants it all over him or nowhere near him at all.

“I—” Yuta closes his eyes and presses their foreheads together. Taeyong’s hands grip tightly onto the front of Yuta’s shirt. He wants so desperately to pull him close but at least has some shred of restraint. Taeyong’s already made himself clear—the next step is Yuta’s to take.

Yuta inhales through gritted teeth and exhales while pulling away. “I’m sorry.”

Taeyong stares ahead at the wall as Yuta stands up from the couch, rigid. The warmth is sapped from the room so quickly it was hard to believe it had been there at all. His shoulders slump and shame courses hot through his veins even though Taeyong hasn’t done anything wrong at all.

“Thanks for the birthday drink.” Yuta’s voice is strained, but Taeyong is hardly listening. He barely hears the door to his apartment close when Yuta’s gone.

  
Johnny leaps off the couch with a triumphant yell, jostling both Taeyong and Sicheng, who grip onto their bowls of fried rice in fear of losing their dinners to the floor.

" _Yes!_ Did you see that? Oh my god, what a shot!"

Sicheng picks up a tiny clump of rice that had fallen onto his shirt and tosses it in his mouth. "Why do we invite him to watch the end of the league season again?"

"Because he plays Overwatch more than we do these days, and he'd never let us hear the end of it if we didn't," Taeyong responds, bouncing slightly when Johnny sits back down.

"I can hear you," Johnny warns, though neither of them really care. 

There's a break in gameplay and they all relax, certain that no one's going to knock any food over onto Taeyong's living room floor.

Taeyong's not really thinking of anything except the game and his dinner—leftovers, but it was good, as always. Sicheng, apparently, has something else on his mind.

"Hey Taeyong, can I ask what happened to Yuta?"

Taeyong stops mid-bite. Even Johnny stills, listening. 

Taeyong slowly eats his spoonful of rice, savouring the taste and the moments where he doesn't have to speak just yet. He swallows and clears his throat. "What do you mean?"

Sicheng shrugs. "You just haven't mentioned him in like, months. We thought you might bring him for Christmas or something but when you didn't—well, I didn't want to bring it up."

"I just haven't seen him. His work takes him away for a while—that's what he told me." It was the truth. After Sicheng's birthday party and their almost-kiss, Yuta disappeared again, this time for even longer. Taeyong had even gone and knocked on the door to make sure he was alright, to maybe tell him that he still wanted to be friends—an awkward moment could just be an awkward moment in the past!—but there hadn't been an answer.

Sicheng doesn't seem to believe him. He purses his lips to the side and thoughtfully pushes his rice around with his food. Taeyong frowns, because he thinks his cooking is too good to be played around with like that, but he doesn't say anything.

"Hey, the man's busy, sometimes that happens. Oh, it's on again!" Johnny brings their attention back to the TV, where they're streaming the league on Youtube. Taeyong is thankful for it. 

Sicheng doesn't bring it up again and their night finishes in relative quietness (aside from Johnny's cheering, of course). They help clean the dishes and Taeyong packs extra food for them to take home, as always. Sicheng and Johnny leave together and Taeyong wouldn't have noticed someone was in the hallway at all if they hadn't stopped in their tracks.

"Hey," he hears Johnny say, making Taeyong hold the door from falling shut and peering out to see who he's talking to.

"Hey." 

Taeyong feels something jump into his throat—his heart, maybe?—when he sees the back of Yuta's head, standing in front of his own apartment door. Sicheng pushes Johnny away down the hall to leave, and Taeyong probably would've gotten away with staring if he wasn't being so obvious and had just closed the door the second he'd seen Yuta. He hadn't done that of course, and Yuta turns his head around like Taeyong had subconsciously called out to him.

They lock eyes and Yuta hesitates for a moment before the corner of his lip slightly pulls up into what could be classified as a friendly smile. Taeyong just thinks it's awkward— _god_ , he's gone and made them awkward again. 

"Hey." Yuta's voice is hoarse, like it hasn't been used in a while. 

Taeyong nods. "Hi." 

Yuta turns back to his apartment door, opening it while Taeyong shuts his own, blatantly ignoring the way his skin burns at the first sight of Yuta in months.

"Maybe he just has commitment issues or something," Doyoung shrugs Taeyong off during their lunch break at work. "I promise you, it's not as awkward as you’re making it out to be. It's all in your head."

"Even if he _did_ have issues, it's not like he'd tell me." Taeyong scoffs. "He straight up said he wouldn't answer if I asked him what he does for a living."

"Well, at least he's honest. And since when were you so caught up on the neighbour anyway? I'm hurt I didn't hear about him sooner."

Taeyong sighs. Yuta always disappeared for so long that he didn't even realize himself that he'd started to bud feelings. He wouldn't even say it was a 'bud,' maybe just a seed that hadn’t even begun to grow roots. It was still something inconsequential, something that Taeyong could deal with in another few months when Yuta disappears again and the embarrassment of rejection has completely faded away. 

“I don’t know, he’s so stupidly intriguing and the more he pulls back the more I want to—” Taeyong jabs his hands forward. He’s either imitating two snakes lunging at something or a very cramped and aggressive diving technique, but either one feels like it gets his feelings across accurately. “—He could be a serial killer for all I know. Which is not a lot. That means it’s a big percentage.”

“You _would_ be the one to fall for a serial killer out of everyone.” Having Doyoung echo this doesn’t make Taeyong feel any better. But he hasn’t fallen for Yuta (at least, not yet), which means so far he’s just neighbours-to-friends-to-awkward-neighbours with a potential serial killer. Which, horribly enough, Taeyong doesn’t think he’s any less intrigued.

“Look,” Doyoung continues. “If this awkward thing is really bothering you, just hand him over some food, which he won’t be able to say no to, and then ask him what the fuck is up. Simple.”

“I really don’t think—”

“I remember how you upped your grade in that psychology class you were failing in Uni, Taeyong. Professor Byun literally asked me how you were doing a year later. It really is that simple.”

Taeyong burns a bright red and stares into his lunch, mumbling, “I told you to never speak of that again.”

It wasn't like he had anything else to lose, (other than making things _more_ awkward) so Taeyong goes through with Doyoung's advice and cooks. He doesn't want to brag or anything, but he really pulled out all the stops with this kimchi and tofu stew. He'd merged his own recipe with the one Donghyuck had given him a while ago and made—okay, maybe he is bragging—probably the best stew in existence. An absolute banger, there was no way this wouldn't help ease Taeyong and Yuta's tension.

When Taeyong stands outside Yuta's apartment door, he realizes he has to knock to get his attention and he really, really does not want to—ah, he thinks to himself. _Maybe it really was all my own doing. Fucking Doyoung._

The thought of Doyoung jeering at him for not being able to knock forcefully brings his fist up to Yuta's door. Taeyong's faltering heartbeat trips him up and his knuckles stutter over the wood. God, that was too quiet, there's no way Yuta heard that. He goes to knock again, harder this time, but the door opens right before he can.

Face to face with Yuta, Taeyong gulps. He doesn't think Yuta's cut his hair since the first time they met and it's about to reach his shoulders now. It doesn't look untidy or unkept though—it looks good. Yuta looks really good. He's always looked really good, it's not like Taeyong hadn't noticed before, it's just now— 

"Hi." Yuta looks from Taeyong to the bag he's holding that he'd packed all the food in, then back to Taeyong, raising a curious brow.

 _Fuck_ , Taeyong must've been staring. He slightly shakes his head to get out of it. He clears his throat. "Hi. I made food."

A pause. Yuta waits for Taeyong to continue but Taeyong doesn't know what else to say. He holds the bag out for Yuta to take. He just kind of wants to turn tail and run back into his own apartment, maybe curl under the covers and stay in the dark for hours or something. This was a horrible idea.

Yuta looks at the bag again, then back to Taeyong. Every time he does that Taeyong feels like he might flinch and drop it. He wishes Yuta would just take it.

Instead, Yuta holds his door open wider. Taeyong blinks. Yuta is... inviting him in? 

Yuta's lips curl into a small smile and it's encouraging enough that Taeyong manages to get his body to take those steps to get inside, despite knowing that Yuta is definitely internally laughing at him.

Yuta's apartment is the same model as Taeyong's, so the kitchen is just a few steps away. He immediately puts the bag down on the counter and starts unpacking the food. "I kind of—I made a lot so I'll put it all in the fridge and you can eat it whenever—"

"We can eat now. I'm hungry."

Taeyong's chest tightens and he has to process his body movements accordingly. Pick up container. Move to open fridge. Open fridge. Place container on empty shelf—wait, why is Yuta's fridge completely empty?

Taeyong vaguely remembers Yuta telling him he hadn't had homecooked meals in a while, at the fact that Yuta disappears for weeks or months at a time for work. He probably lives off of takeout, not stocking groceries because they'd just go bad. Well, that just wouldn't do. When Taeyong and Johnny were in University together, Taeyong was so concerned with Johnny's unhealthy takeout habit that he was over at his apartment every day to cook for him. Johnny didn't mind until it started cockblocking him—it wasn't Taeyong's fault all those people _assumed!_ —so Johnny finally learned to cook for himself.

Taeyong just can't know that someone's fridge is empty and not do something about it. It's immoral.

He puts the extra containers away and starts preparing the rest. He really didn't think they'd be sharing it here, right now—he was just going to hand it to Yuta and bolt. He wished he would've brought it over in the original pot while it was still hot, but whatever, it's still the best thing he's ever made even when reheated.

Yuta, Taeyong observes while they sit across from each other at a small circular two-person table, eats it like it had just come off the stove. Meanwhile, Taeyong uses the opportunity to take in Yuta's living space, which doesn't really look any sort of lived-in at all.

It's jarringly empty. Nothing on the walls, no appliances in the kitchen, basic furniture like the table and two chairs they sat at. In the living room area—an old, ratty couch with a plastic coffee table in front of it. There isn't a TV, just a laptop that was left open, screen showing that Yuta had been in the middle of watching some Netflix show when Taeyong had knocked.

"You look like you really wanna say something."

Taeyong snaps his attention back to Yuta, shoulders rising sheepishly. Yuta seems amused, watching Taeyong get flustered. Taeyong clears his throat. "I was just... would you let me help you decorate? Make it a little more, I don't know, home-y?"

Yuta tilts his head, thoughtful. He turns his body to look over his shoulder at the rest of his apartment—as if he'd forgotten it was almost empty in the first place. He looks at Taeyong and chuckles. "You seem like the kind of person who'd go ahead and do it even if I said no."

"Considering the kind of content I'm surrounded by at work, yes, you're absolutely right." Taeyong had only helped out with the decorating articles a few times, he himself usually amounted 'decorating' to filling his apartment with plants and things that are soft and comfy and somehow match. That was already way more than what Yuta had, so he's pretty much an expert compared to him. 

"Alright," Yuta looks around again, taking in his surroundings. "I guess making it a little more comfortable around here couldn't hurt."

  
Taeyong and Yuta go furniture shopping that weekend. Taeyong picks out some cushions to go with the couch Yuta ordered, _actual_ curtains to replace the horrible plastic blinds the apartment came with, and various decorative bits and bobs to put on the new shelves. Taeyong thinks Yuta's lucky enough that the apartment had come with a bedframe and nightstand—though Yuta also never blinked at the cost of anything. It made Taeyong wonder how much he made at this secret job of his. He didn't ask of course, as that would be rude and he'd only just gotten to talking to Yuta again, but it was at the back of his mind when Yuta made no qualms about whatever Taeyong carefully tossed into their shopping cart.

They finish at the furniture store and pack up Yuta's car, but Taeyong doesn't think he's done yet. Yuta picks up on this.

"Did you forget something?" His hands are on the wheel but he makes no move to pull out of the parking lot just yet.

Taeyong's fingers fidget with the end of his sleeve. How could Yuta be so casual about them just... hanging out? Had enough time passed for him to not feel awkward? At this point, Taeyong didn't think Yuta could feel awkward. Not that he was complaining though. This was better than he'd even imagined when Doyoung had suggested to bring Yuta food. Taeyong is just... not used to this. "Well, I was just thinking—I know you're gone a lot for work but I feel like you'd like your place a lot more if you had some plants. Something to take care of when you live alone is nice."

Yuta doesn't say anything. He taps his fingers on the steering wheel. "I mean, I'd love to, but work..."

"I could water them while you're gone," Taeyong says without thinking. Yuta looks over at him and Taeyong flushes. "Sorry—that was—I shouldn't have—"

Yuta grips the steering wheel and starts pulling out of the parking lot. "You know what, it would liven the place up—literally. Having something to do other than watch shows on Netflix would probably be a good idea. Tell me where to go."

While Taeyong isn't sure if that's necessarily a yes—he figures an implied one is better than any. He smiles to himself as he directs Yuta to the same shop he bought his own at. He sees Yuta's eyes flick over at him for a fleeting second, but chalks it up to a trick of the light from the sun overhead.

Yuta stays. Taeyong expects him to disappear any day, like usual, but Yuta stays, and he stays for a while. He doesn't stock his fridge because he doesn't know when he has to leave for work, so Taeyong cooks for him. Every day. They have dinner every night and Taeyong always sends Yuta home with leftovers for lunch. It's natural. Taeyong's (sort of) over himself and the embarrassment leftover from _That Night_ —but Yuta seems to genuinely want to spend time with Taeyong. Taeyong's confident he can now read the internal conflict on Yuta's face when he has to convince himself to go home at the end of the night.

Sometimes when they eat at Yuta's, he looks like he wants to ask Taeyong to stay longer. He doesn't, but the fact that it's something Taeyong can see, can recognize now on that mysteriously handsome face of Yuta's, delights him more than anything.

"I hope you know more than just his name and beer preference now," Taeil says one Tuesday night while Taeyong is seated at the bar. Johnny is beside him, nursing a drink and definitely trying to look cool. This happens every week, every week they hangout with Taeil while he's working and every week, Johnny fails to... well, Taeyong isn't really too sure what he's trying to accomplish, whether it's getting Taeil to notice him, go out with him, or just look at him—whatever it is, it's not working. Taeyong has to admit, he does get a kind of sick enjoyment out of it, but Johnny says it keeps him humble, so Taeyong's allowed to witness his train wrecks.

“I know he watches a lot of anime.” A criminal amount, so much so that Taeyong thinks it could be considered a coping mechanism. For what, he doesn’t know, doesn’t desire to know unless Yuta wants to tell him, but it’s a tiny bit concerning nonetheless.

Johnny perks up. “Oh! Great, so he’s a weirdo like us! I knew it.”

“Speak for yourselves.” Taeil scoffs, the slightest hint of a smile playing at his lips. Taeyong knows Johnny is screaming on the inside.

“He thinks video games are a waste of time,” Taeyong says, as plainly as possible. It’s a move aimed at Johnny, to disarm him, just for fun, even if at the time Yuta had uttered those horrible words, Taeyong himself had been so appalled he had stopped speaking for a whole hour while Yuta laughed. Then they played Mario Kart. 

Johnny’s jaw drops. “Oh my god. You had to kill him for that didn’t you? Please tell me you did. What the fuck.”

“Video games aren’t everything, Johnny,” Taeil says, again with the smallest of smirks. He’s poking fun and Taeyong is sure that Johnny is just absolutely elated right now, even when his shoulders rise up, tensed and ready to defend himself.

“Video games are _art_.”

Taeyong smiles to himself and takes a sip of his drink, sitting back to let Johnny have what he wants.

He thinks about Yuta. This isn’t out of the ordinary, they see each other every day after Taeyong gets home from work, or if it’s a Tuesday, after Taeyong hangs out with Johnny and Taeil. It’s peculiar, how they just sort of… fit together. Even when Taeyong’s nerves get the best of him sometimes. Hardly ever, now! But still sometimes. There was something nerve-wracking about Yuta, like an entity that never stops moving or buzzing—not in the literal sense, Taeyong has watched Yuta lie on his new couch in a coma-like state while watching Black Butler for hours—but it was the energy around him, even after they decorated his apartment that was meant to signify home, a permanent safe space.

When Taeyong goes home that night, he knocks on Yuta’s door, like always. He waits a moment, then two, then knocks again. When there still isn’t an answer, he knocks one last time, a little harder.

Either he’s passed out on his couch or he’s disappeared again. Taeyong goes into his own apartment, a little more than disappointed. He had been hoping to say goodbye this time at least.

He heads to the fridge first to scrounge around for a snack but he gets distracted by a piece of paper on the counter. Curious, having no memory of leaving any sort of note for himself, Taeyong picks it up. Underneath it, Taeyong finds a key.

> Taeyong  
>  Sorry, I got called last minute for work, I didn’t mean to leave without saying bye this time.  
>  Here’s my spare key so you can water the plants (like you promised).  
>  I’d say help yourself to food in the fridge but there isn’t any. I took the rest of your leftovers with me.  
>  I should be gone around a month. Don’t miss me too much.  
>  \- ~~Yu~~ Tiger

Taeyong wills his stupid heartbeat to calm down. They were friends! Friends watered each other’s plants, just like they promised they would! And friends definitely brought up a name you called them once when you were about to kiss, AKA the moment you have both have avoided discussing the entire time, right?

He’d even been about to write his actual name, then decided, no, Tiger would be better. 

Maybe Taeyong isn’t as over it as he thinks he is. He goes to Yuta’s apartment anyway, to distract himself with watering the plants. It doesn’t really work.

Belatedly, while laying in bed and staring up at the ceiling later that night, Taeyong wonders; how did Yuta even get in?

  
“You look like Bella in New Moon when she’s waiting for Edward to come back, except instead of months passing it’s only days.”

Taeyong had glared at Johnny when he said that two weeks after Yuta’s departure, even if it was a pretty accurate description of how he felt. There are countless jot notes in his notebook that he usually used for ideas for articles to write, but lately, most of them consisted of stuff along the lines of:

> Why do I feel this way  
>  Is it normal to miss someone this much  
>  Why does time move slower when a certain person is not around

All of which are answers to an overarching question of:

> How do you know when someone has become an important part of your life

Which leads into more questions, like:

> How to realize when someone is becoming important to you before you become a moody YA character about it  
>  How do you make sure a relationship stays platonic even though you distinctly remember the other person saying they really wanted to kiss you but for some reason couldn’t

Taeyong at least has peace of mind at work, where he can write the mindless list-articles and argue with Doyoung all day, like usual. It was the more hard-hitting ones that he was known for, the ones about love and loss and shit that he’d run out of inspiration for. But that was fine, he could push them to the side for the time being and still be just as productive as before. Much more productive than Bella Swan during New Moon anyway. Taeyong at least knows that Yuta’s coming back.

(He just wishes he’d stay, or at least not leave in a way that makes Taeyong feel like he’s dangling off a building, waiting to see if there’s a net to save him at the bottom or not.)

“You’re not as good at hiding your moping like you think you are,” Doyoung tells him one day. “You know it’s not a crime to miss somebody. It’s not like he’s a stranger anymore.”

Taeyong scowls, hunched over his desk with his shoulders raised so he can block Doyoung sitting beside him from his peripheral. He knows it’s okay. it just feels—well, pathetic. And everyone was always pointing out that Taeyong and Yuta had spent a lot of time together already but he always hesitated at ‘not a stranger anymore.’

As much as he knew about Yuta now—his food preferences, the kinds of shows that were his favourite, the different ways in which he laughed, how he tended to press his shoulder to Taeyong’s whenever they sat beside each other. Taeyong didn’t know much about the Yuta from before he moved into the apartment across from him. Yuta never spoke about his parents, where he was from, what he did for work. Never mentioned if he studied, if he’d been in relationships, if he had siblings or a family. Taeyong only knew a single piece of the pie that was Yuta Nakamoto, and to him it seemed like it was only a sliver.

And Taeyong couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Doyoung shoves his shoulder and causes Taeyong to write a very lovely _‘fjksskdd’_ into the document he’s been typing in. “You’re too in your head again,” Doyoung accuses, and Taeyong kicks him in retaliation.

“ _Bosssssss_ ,” They both hear Donghyuck whine from somewhere else in the office. “The children are fighting again!”

Doyoung sticks his tongue out at him. “Snitch.”

Donghyuck purses his lips in a mocking manner and holds up his fingers in the shape of a V. 

Doyoung turns back to Taeyong. “Stop overthinking it. Most people would beg for a break from their crush being around them all the time if they were in denial about it.”

“I don’t have a crush on him. It’s platonic.”

“Sure.”

“I don’t.”

“Uh-huh— _ow!_ ”

“ _Booooosssss_ , they’re doing it again!”

Taeyong doesn’t want to be a slave to time, doesn’t want to obsessively watch the clock until it hits one month since Yuta left, so he drowns himself in what he knows best—video games. He’s logged at least 120+ hours in the last two to three weeks playing Stardew Valley while passing the time. It’s fun, he forgot how much he loves this game.

There’s a knock on his door one night and Taeyong doesn’t think much of it—sometimes Johnny and Sicheng barge in with no notice and hang out, which is nothing new but Taeyong has been finding a new appreciation for it lately.

“Come in, it’s unlocked!” he yells, not wanting to pause his game. He definitely could, but Johnny and Sicheng would understand and did the same thing to him whenever he went over to their places.

He hears the door open softly, not as rough or barbaric as Johnny usually pushes it open—he’s finally heeded Taeyong’s warnings about it then.

“You just let anyone walk into your apartment?”

_Pause._

That was definitely not Johnny or Sicheng. Taeyong looks to the door and his legs want to immediately spring up and run towards the entrance—but that would be devastatingly embarrassing so he just flinches, trying to hold himself still. “Yuta.” His damn voice cracks. 

Yuta smiles at him and Taeyong’s stupid body fills with a stupid warmth and his own mouth spreads into a stupid goofy smile as Yuta sits beside him.

“Hi.” Yuta says, pressing his shoulder to Taeyong’s, like an assurance that he’s there and real and not an illusion (not that Taeyong’s _that_ far gone). Sitting this close, looking at each other, Taeyong observes the dark circles under Yuta’s eyes. He looks exhausted.

“Hi. How was work?”

He immediately regrets asking the question. Yuta’s smile doesn’t waver but Taeyong notices he looks even more tired.

“Oh, you know, it was work.”

Taeyong doesn’t know, because he has no clue what work is to Yuta. It snaps him out of his stupid-happy cloud at least, so now Taeyong just feels stupid. 

“Right. How are the plants, then? Did I do a good job taking care of them? Have I passed as a good plant-babysitter? Five-star rating?”

Yuta snorts, closing his eyes and giving a little shake of his head. Taeyong’s stupid-happy flickers back to life like a tiny, delicate flame.

Yuta looks at Taeyong, gaze boring into his when he admits, “I, uh, I haven’t gone home yet, so I don’t know, but I’m sure they’re great.”

“Oh.” Taeyong swallows, forces himself to stand up or else he’ll do something stupid, again. He’s still smiling though, very, very stupidly. “Cool. I’m gonna make us dinner.”

His stomach ties itself into a twist when he feels Yuta staring after him. When he catches him, Yuta doesn’t even pretend that he wasn’t, just continues to look at him. Taeyong forces himself to take a deep, shaky breath.

Out of all the embarrassing things Taeyong has done in his entire life—and he’s done a lot—this is probably the worst, most embarrassing thing out of them all.

Taeyong is at the pub, leaning his back against the bar, trying to be casual while he picks at his fingers, wearily watching the entrance to see who’s coming in. He’s wearing brown boots, blue jeans, a plaid button-up, and a fucking brown fake-leather cowboy hat.

It’s Taeyong’s guilty-pleasure night. It’s cowboy night. And he thought it would be a good idea to invite Yuta.

He’d been so high off the fumes of his stupid-happy cloud when Yuta had come back that he just hadn’t thought through the consequences of this. This was _cowboy_ night. And yes, all of Taeyong’s friends were there, all happily participating like they did every year, and yes, Yuta had agreed to come, knowing what it was, but—

Doyoung knocks into Taeyong deliberately while perfectly balancing the drink in his hand as he stands beside him, also leaning his back onto the bar and rudely interrupting Taeyong’s panicked thoughts.

“So where is he? You haven’t made this man up, have you?”

Taeyong’s shoulders slump after realizing he’s been holding them up so stiffly. “He still had to get ready, told me not to wait for him.”

“Yet you’re still waiting for him.”

Doyoung takes an obnoxious sip of his drink and Taeyong thinks better of tipping the bottom of the glass with his two fingers to get it to spill. Doyoung would probably drop the glass and it would break, then Taeil would have to replace it. Not worth the end result, but Taeyong gets unbridled joy out of imagining it anyway.

He takes a look around the bar, filled with strangers, and some of his friends, sitting, standing, dancing. There are cowboy hats and light-wash jeans everywhere. A Sam Hunt song blasts from the jukebox. Taeyong has never felt so uncomfortable in what he once described as his natural element.

Taeyong’s eyes skim over Ten and Sicheng huddled in a corner—the hair on his arm rises at the thought of talking to Ten still but he shakes it off until his gaze lands somewhere on the other side of the pub, where Johnny leans against the wall in that stupid hot-guy-pose that only Yuta looked good doing, all big and tall and towering, trapping some poor man who looks up at him— 

Taeyong elbows Doyoung in the ribs. “Has Taeil finally succumbed to him?” It’s the first time in a long time he’s even seen Taeil not behind the bar top, one of his few and fleeting nights off.

“Succumbed?” Doyoung snorts. “ _Please_ , he’s been egging Johnny to make a move for years.”

“What?” 

“Don’t tell me you never noticed.”

Taeyong blinks in surprise. He’d always thought Taeil had just been entertaining Johnny for fun. He looks over at them again and sees how close they are, notices the index finger Taeil has hooked into the belt loop of Johnny’s jeans, keeping him there. The way Taeil angles his face up, that bemused smirk on his face, the glimmer of his eyes— 

“Oh.” Taeyong feels a little stupid.

Doyoung bursts into laughter. It isn’t malicious, but Taeyong elbows him again, a little harder, just for good measure.

“No wonder you and this Yuta guy are moving so slow.”

Taeyong opens his mouth to argue. He and Yuta aren’t moving anywhere like that—and even if they were it certainly wasn’t because Taeyong couldn’t see what was in front of him!

(Yuta _had_ said he wanted to kiss him though— _no, stop thinking about that again._ )

He falters, however, when he notices the door of the pub open and Yuta enters, a black cowboy hat perched on his head. Taeyong waves at him and heads over. They meet in the middle.

“Welcome,” Taeyong greets Yuta, a hand gesturing about like he's welcoming him to look around his grand estate. “You are now officially witnessing my worst flaw. I like white country music—or, country-pop anyway. Kind of the same thing. Both universally hated and secretly loved.”

Yuta snorts, his fingers lifting up to touch the tip of his hat. He looks really good—even if his cowboy outfit is more on the goth side with his black button up, dark jeans, black boots—but Taeyong suspects he looks good in anything. 

“Oh god, I thought you were about to introduce me, not the damn music.” 

Taeyong startles, only just realizing that Doyoung had followed him. “Oh, and here’s my other worst flaw, Doyoung.”

Yuta smiles and shakes his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too. I’ve heard a lot about you, while simultaneously hearing nothing at the same time. Taeyong’s open secret.”

Taeyong has never wished more violence upon anyone until this moment. Yuta only smirks, amused. “I like it, makes me sound intriguing. Sexy, even.”

Taeyong wants to die.

Doyoung wags a finger in Yuta’s direction, now speaking to Taeyong. “I like him.”

“You’re worse than Johnny.” Taeyong scowls.

“I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear that,” Yuta says, looking towards the crowd around the bar. “I’m going to go get a drink. Do you want something?”

Taeyong doesn’t want a night of too much embarrassment, so he just opts for a beer—a drink he doesn’t really care for which means he won’t drink it excessively. Yuta had just barely left to wave down the bartender when Taeyong rounded on Doyoung, fist up and threatening.

“Calm down,” Doyoung scoffs. “I see why he’s kept your attention. Sexy and he knows it.”

“I have never wanted to punch you more.”

“Seriously! Sexy, mysterious, kind of gives me bad boy vibes—he’s like a lead in a sexy vampire romance show.”

“You told me you never watched the Vampire Diaries.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a liar.”

They laugh and Taeyong turns to find Yuta, to see if he managed to flag down the bartender, when his view is blocked by Ten approaching.

“I’ll uh, let you deal with that.” Doyoung is off before Taeyong can even begin to beg him to stay, but Ten greets Taeyong with a small, non-threatening smile, so Taeyong manages to relax his shoulders just a little bit.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

It’s awkward.

Ten motions towards the bar. “I saw Yuta.”

Alright, cool. Taeyong’s fine, _really_. He nods.

“He looks good. You sure you’re not dating?”

“Ten…” Of all people to have this conversation with, Ten was at the very bottom of all 7 billion people on earth. 

Ten’s smile fades. “Look, I don’t have anything against you, or either of you, I was just asking like any other friend would.”

“Well you’re not just any other friend, are you?”

“Ah. No, I’m not.” He sighs and Taeyong regrets his words. “But I’m trying, for Sicheng.”

Taeyong shoves his hands into his jean pockets and wishes he could be swallowed whole. Ten’s been trying, and Taeyong has just tried to avoid everything.

He forces his shoulders to relax again. “For the record, I don’t have anything against you either. Or Sicheng. I think it’s nice. I like that you’re both happy.”

Ten’s smile returns, one Taeyong hasn’t seen directed at him in a long while—soft. “Thank you. I want you to be too.” He motions towards the bar again, where Taeyong can now properly see Yuta through the crowd, leaning on the bar top, waiting for their drinks. “So, I won’t ask about you two specifically, but I will ask if he’s doing okay.”

Taeyong’s brow furrows. “Uh, yeah? He’s fine. Why?”

“Oh. Well I just—I saw him limping a bit and you know me, I’m a damn magnet for stupid leg injuries. I was just curious.”

“I didn’t notice. Might be from his work or something.” This was enough of an answer to satisfy Ten, as he simply nodded. This was not enough of an answer for Taeyong himself, though. He tried to shake it off. “Well, if he _is_ limping, I don’t want to make him bring drinks over here and be standing all night. See you later?”

As much as the conversation with Ten wasn’t completely terrible, Taeyong still wants to escape, take a breather (be next to Yuta). Luckily, Ten seems happy to be in the same boat.

“Yeah, see you around!”

When Taeyong slips through the crowd and finds Yuta still at the bar, he realizes he’s been sitting on a stool, diligently guarding the one next to him for Taeyong, their drinks in front of him.

“You knew I’d come over here?” Taeyong asks.

“No, I just thought I might give you a good out if you needed it. It didn’t seem like a bad conversation though.” Yuta shrugs.

“Yeah, it wasn’t too bad. Not great, but… progress.”

“Well, cheers to that.” They clink their beers together and drink.

“Heya!” Large arms come around both Yuta and Taeyong’s shoulders and squeeze them closer together, each pressed to a side of Johnny’s chest. “Good to see ya!”

Yuta looks at Taeyong, bewildered, and Taeyong just bursts into laughter. In another breeze Johnny is gone, having stolen Taeyong’s beer (which Taeyong doesn’t actually mind) and probably off to his Taeil corner.

“He’s love drunk,” Taeyong tells Yuta in a way of explanation. Yuta’s gaze follows Johnny, seeing Taeil and he nods in understanding.

“You have a great, weird group of friends, Taeyong.” He comments.

“Don’t say it like you’re not a part of that. You’re just as great and weird.”

Yuta looks down into his drink, almost shy. “Thanks.”

It lights Taeyong on fire. Yuta doesn’t talk about friends or a family and it makes Taeyong think—well, maybe he doesn’t have any. Yuta is very welcome to be a part of his.

Later that night, after more drinks, after Yuta goads Doyoung into ranting for hours about a rival lifestyle website they compete with, after Johnny and Taeil officially declare they’re finally dating, after Sicheng squeezes Taeyong’s hand without saying anything, after hours of fun and laughter, Taeyong and Yuta walk home together.

Taeyong does notice the limp Ten mentioned, but he decides not to ask about it.

  
Taeyong gets another few weeks of blissful Yuta-time until it comes to a screeching halt.

It starts with Yuta suddenly getting serious one night after dinner. He even pauses the Netflix show they have on and quiets the whine on Taeyong’s tongue with a low “hey.”

Taeyong turns to him, eyes wide, dread already filling him. He hasn’t heard Yuta this serious—ever.

“I just wanted to thank you for taking care of me.” Yuta stares at where their thighs gently rest against each other’s while they sit on his couch. “I know I’m not around a lot and I’m not a great, exciting, or even interesting person really—”

“Hey, whoa,” Taeyong interrupts. “What’s going on?”

Yuta sighs. “I’m gonna have to leave for work again. I might not—I might be gone for a long time this time.”

Taeyong feels himself sink into the couch. It sounds like Yuta’s trying to say goodbye. And not ‘goodbye, I’ll see you tomorrow!’ but _goodbye_. Just out of nowhere like this—Taeyong won’t have it.

“Is this how your work has always been? Does it not get lonely?”

“It used to. I never looked forward to going home as much, until I moved here.”

Taeyong’s breath catches in his throat. “You’re a good person, Yuta.” He doesn’t know what’s going through Yuta’s head but he feels the need to assure him of that.

Yuta finally looks at him with a slight shake of his head. “I’m not. But I appreciate that.”

Again, Taeyong asks, “what’s going on?”

Yuta’s answer is a non-answer. Or rather, it’s half an answer and half a subject changer. “I’m gonna miss your birthday.”

 _Yuta is upset?_ Taeyong blinks. _Yuta cares. Yuta wants to be here. Yuta wants to celebrate Taeyong’s birthday. Yuta doesn’t want to leave._

Taeyong nibbles at his bottom lip, unsure. Yuta quickly glances at Taeyong’s mouth, then back to his eyes, like he couldn’t quite resist.

If Taeyong didn’t know any better, he’d say Yuta wants to kiss him. Taeyong wants to kiss him too.

It’s a good thing he doesn’t know any better.

“Can I ask for an early present, then?” It’s airy, light and playful, but laced with something more serious if Yuta catches on to it. Taeyong’s heart skips a beat as Yuta watches him. Even with what happened last time, he can’t just pretend he can’t see it, how Yuta looks at him like Taeyong’s already broken his heart and he’d do anything to get it back. Taeyong has no idea what he’s done to deserve that look, and it kills him a little inside knowing that Yuta probably won’t tell him.

“You can say no.” Taeyong reminds him, after Yuta stays silent.

“You haven’t asked me anything to say no to.”

Taeyong raises a finger to his mouth and lightly taps his lips. He glances at Yuta’s mouth. Surely, that’s enough of a way to ask. Taeyong doesn’t think he can verbalize it at this point—if he says ‘kiss me’ and Yuta audibly says ‘no,’ he doesn’t think he’ll survive. He’ll be the one broken into tiny little pieces.

Yuta stares at Taeyong’s lips, and Taeyong just watches. He imagines a tiny war going on in Yuta’s head, a war that’s been going on for months, _‘I want to kiss you so bad right now, but I—’_ , what was holding him back? Would it win? Taeyong is selfish and he hopes it doesn’t.

Taeyong is so wrapped up in his own thoughts he barely registers the hand brushing by his cheek. Yuta cups his jaw, takes a deep breath, and gently pulls Taeyong towards him.

Yuta’s lips are tender and gentle, but rigid in a way that Taeyong knows he’s holding back. Taeyong takes what he’s given and practically melts into the softness of Yuta’s mouth, even if it only lasts a few seconds.

Nerves thrum under Taeyong’s skin, excited, jolted. He’s aware that this was a very, horrible idea. Yuta is about to leave and letting him awaken those feelings in Taeyong—he shouldn’t have asked for it.

“Thank you,” he breathes, overwhelmed. Even more so, when Yuta’s lips are on his again. There is more purpose to this kiss, less caution, but still controlled. They both inhale, sharp, like it’s too much for either of them but they don’t part despite it. This kiss is longer than the first, a kiss meant to savour the feeling for however long they’d be without it. Maybe forever.

When they finally do break apart, they’re both panting, trying to catch their breath. Taeyong searches Yuta’s face for—well he’s not really sure, anything, really. An answer? A question? Something.

Yuta’s hand gently caresses Taeyong’s face, down his neck and chest before Taeyong misses its warmth when he pulls it away.

“That one was for me,” Yuta says.

With the pounding of his heart echoing in his ears, Taeyong nods.

  
If his friends had thought Taeyong looked like Bella Swan when Yuta had been gone a month, he wonders what they think now, after he’s been gone for two.

Now, don’t get it wrong, Taeyong isn’t just sitting there, waiting for Yuta to come home. He lives. He goes out after work with his friends, has a birthday party, lives his life. 

There’s not much he can do anyway, he realized once the second month passed that he and Yuta hadn’t ever exchanged phone numbers, and Taeyong doesn’t feel like he knows much but he definitely knows that was deliberate on Yuta’s part.

If Taeyong just knew why the hell Yuta couldn’t give them a chance, _wouldn’t_ give them a chance, maybe it would make it a little more bearable. It feels like tug-of-war, only your opposition has disappeared and you don’t even know what you’re tugging on anymore, or why you were tugging in the first place.

Taeyong waters Yuta’s plants in the meantime, takes care of his apartment. Even if there was some inkling of finality in Yuta’s goodbye, Taeyong couldn’t just let those plants die. And if he did let them die and Yuta came back? He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. God, it would’ve just been so much easier if Yuta had just left completely. Taeyong’s trying to finish the puzzle that’s his life, only Yuta bent the last piece so it doesn’t fit right anymore.

Even if they hadn’t been anything more than friends and good neighbours, that’s what Taeyong misses the most. Just having someone right across the hall he could see, could talk to at any moment, having someone’s presence in his kitchen while he made dinner and laughter when a funny scene came on TV.

Of course, any new neighbour could move in at any time on Taeyong’s floor, but they wouldn’t be Yuta.

  
“How long has it been?” 

Doyoung has the decency to soften his voice, to make it known to Taeyong that he isn’t trying to prod him with a hot iron with this subject.

“Three and a half months.”

“And still nothing?”

Taeyong shakes his head. “I’m not just sitting here waiting for him, you know.”

“Of course I—” Doyoung sighs. “I know.”

Silence as they both work at their computers. Doyoung’s using his standing desk, because he hates sitting, and Taeyong thinks it’s because he also likes looking down at him. 

“It’s not stupid of you to miss him,” Doyoung says eventually.

He’s got it right on the nose. Taeyong feels stupid for missing Yuta for this long. He doesn’t say anything.

“It doesn’t matter how long you’ve known him or how little time you think you’ve spent together. If he’s important to you it’s okay to worry about him and miss him.”

Taeyong doesn’t look up at him, because he just might start crying. “Thank you.”

It’s just like any other day after work. Taeyong parks his car in the parking lot of his apartment building and heads up to Yuta’s apartment to check on his plants. It’s his routine and it grants him some sanity.

When Taeyong exits the elevator on his floor, he pauses. There are people in the hallway and their relatively quiet floor is abuzz. As he gets closer, his heart slowly sinks into his stomach. The door to Yuta’s apartment is open. There are people in Yuta’s apartment. They’re wearing police uniforms.

“Keep moving.” One of them grunts at him.

Taeyong jabs a thumb in the direction of his own door. “I live right there. Can I ask what’s going on?” He doesn’t remember seeing any police cars in the parking lot. 

“We’ve got a warrant for Yuta Nakamoto. Did you know him?”

Taeyong should probably say yes, but then realizes he doesn’t really want to. Should he? He certainly doesn’t know Yuta well enough to think he’d be capable of having a _warrant_ on him.

“No,” he ends up saying. “I didn’t. I watered his plants when he was gone, but I didn’t know him.”

He’s lucky his throat doesn’t close up, that the officer doesn’t ask him any more because Taeyong finds it increasingly harder to speak with every step towards his own apartment. His hands are shaking as he enters and closes the door, closes his view of the scene. They’ve made a mess of Yuta’s apartment and it makes Taeyong’s head hurt. His heart too. Everything hurts. He leans his back against his door and tries not to sink to the floor.

_Yuta, who the fuck are you?_

_Deep breath in, Taeyong. Now deep breath out. Breathe._

Taeyong pushes himself off the door and heads to his bedroom, where all he wants to do is wrap himself up in his blankets and stare at the wall. He gets to the entryway and freezes.

There’s someone in his bed.

It’s dark, the light is off and the curtains are drawn because Taeyong didn’t open them this morning. His hand slowly reaches toward the light switch. Even if he’s about to die, to get murdered when there are cops right on the other side of his door, he still has the morbid curiosity of wanting to know who does it.

Taeyong flicks the light on and chokes on his own breath.

His bed is red, which isn’t normal when Taeyong only owns white sheets. His bed is red with blood and there’s a body lying in the middle of it and Taeyong is being _shushed_ , he’s being shushed by _Yuta,_ the bloody body lying on his fucking bed— 

“ _Taeyong!_ ” 

There’s a hand on his face, grasping at his cheek. Taeyong doesn’t know how he got to his bed, how he got on his knees, can barely register the call of his name that is trying so desperately to bring him back to earth.

“Taeyong, look up. Taeyong? Look at me, please. I’m alright, please look at my face, _please_ , Taeyong—”

Taeyong looks at the body that sits in blood, where the voice doesn’t want him to look but he does. His stomach convulses, his chest feels like it’s caving in and it’s almost a miracle Taeyong manages to not vomit. The hand grabs his chin forcefully now, not enough to hurt, but enough to wrench Taeyong’s gaze away from the body and to the voice.

The face.

_Yuta._

“Look at me. I am fine. I am okay. Can you hear me, Taeyong? _I’m okay_.”

The body—the body is Yuta, the blood is Yuta, the voice is Yuta— _Yuta, Yuta, Yuta_.

“How can you say that when there’s a hole in your leg?” Taeyong manages to gasp out, voice wet. Yuta wipes tears off Taeyong’s cheeks—he didn’t even realize he’s crying.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll explain everything, okay? I need you to help me and then I’ll explain everything.”

“Oh god,” Taeyong wills his tears to stop but just ends up furiously brushing them away, hands balled into fists to stop them from shaking. No one ever thinks about what their reaction would be when a man they’ve been missing horribly for months just turns up out of nowhere, soaked in blood. “Okay, okay.” He takes a deep breath and Yuta holds one of Taeyong’s hands. He realizes Yuta’s other hand is red-stained and conveniently covering the wound on his thigh. “What… _god_ , what do you need me to do?”

“I need you to hold it open. Don’t look at it, okay? I need you to hold it open so I can get the bullet out.”

Taeyong thinks about the cops in Yuta’s apartment again, looking for him. Just what kind of trouble did Yuta get himself into? Was this a regular occurrence? _Did he get shot often?_

His thoughts are distracted by a glint of metal beside Yuta and he freezes. Tweezers. The man is just going to—?!

“Taeyong—stay with me—I can’t get this one out myself, okay? Take a deep breath—here—” Yuta gently guides Taeyong’s head down to the thigh that isn’t bleeding, making him rest against the outside of it, face turned away from Yuta’s body. Taeyong squeezes his eyes shut anyway.

Yuta then guides Taeyong’s hands to his wounded thigh. He feels frayed edges of fabric and wet skin. _Blood_. Taeyong sucks in.

“Exhale, okay? Remember to exhale. Now I just need you to—yes, like that, is that okay? You’re doing great, just stay like that Taeyong.”

Yuta is fishing a bullet out of his own damn flesh and yet he’s encouraging Taeyong like _he’s_ the one about to go under surgery. God, how many times has Yuta done this before? He referred to it as _this one_ —just how many times has he gotten shot today? That would explain all the blood, but just— 

He thinks of the scars all over Yuta’s hands that he spent time tracing. Thinks about some time ago when Yuta had a limp. Seemingly mundane, small things. Now it’s looking like they aren’t.

“So, you get yourself shot often?” is what escapes from Taeyong’s mouth when he doesn’t want to hear his inner voice—or hear the sound of what Yuta’s doing.

A snort. “Don’t make me laugh while I’m doing this, but as a principle I try my best not to. Doesn’t always work out that way.”

“Does this… does this have to do with work?”

“I promise I’ll tell you everything after this, okay?”

“When the bullet’s out?”

“When the bullet’s out.”

 _Squelch_ —Taeyong stiffens, manages to burp instead of gag or outright vomit at the sound. He needs to keep talking, distract himself—”I wrote an article about you for work”—No wait, not that—

“I know, I read it.”

Taeyong wants to look at Yuta, almost does until he remembers what will probably happen if he sees anything going on right now. His eyes flutter open instead, staring at a spot on his wall. “You did?” He'd never told Yuta his pseudonym!

“Mhm. Might as well have put my whole name as the title. _‘How to stop missing someone._ ’ How could I _not_ know?”

The teasing lilt to Yuta’s tone makes Taeyong smile faintly, cheeks red. He had no idea Yuta even read the blog or tried to keep up with him at all. “I did miss you.”

“I missed you too. I… am sorry I left. And I’m sorry I showed up like this.”

“You know what they say, there’s no better hello than a gallon of blood on the sheets and cops in the hallway.”

Taeyong feels Yuta stiffen. “What?” his voice is strained.

“There’s cops looking through your apartment right now. I didn’t see any cop cars when I got home though, so they surprised me. They said they had a warrant for you—”

“They’re not cops,” Yuta cuts in, sounding winded. “Shit, how much did you tell them?”

“Nothing really, I kind of panicked and said I didn’t know you, because, well,” Taeyong doesn’t really know how to put the breakdown he had not just five minutes ago into words that wouldn’t hurt. So he changes the subject. “They’re not cops? Then who—”

Taeyong feels Yuta’s hands on his again, making them push instead of pull. Did that mean—had he gotten the bullet out? Without _screaming_?

“It’s not safe to explain right now.” Taeyong can hear Yuta gritting his teeth as he speaks. “We need to get out of here.”

Panic rises in Taeyong’s throat. “You said you’d tell me what’s going on!”

“I will, I will, when you’re safe—”

Taeyong can’t stand it, he whips his head up to stare Yuta down. “Safe from who, Yuta? Them? Or you?”

Yuta’s shoulders slump and he _falters_. He swallows and looks down at whatever he’s doing to his thigh now, probably patching it up. Taeyong still refuses to look, even if looking at Yuta’s hurt expression is the worst thing in the world, but it’s the most emotion he thinks he's seen from him since they met.

“At first I thought keeping my distance from you would be the safest option.” Yuta’s voice is low and hoarse, full of pain. It hurts Taeyong too, listening to it. “But then I got selfish, and wanted to be near you anyway.”

It doesn’t escape Taeyong’s notice that Yuta’s avoided the question. When Taeyong had spoken to the “cop” he’d been distraught at the idea of Yuta being someone who did bad and horrible things for no reason, some man who did things that needed a search warrant for his apartment. With Yuta in front of him now, he just wants the truth. He doesn’t know if he cares or not if Yuta is "bad"—he wants to know why, he wants to know everything, and he wants to hear it from Yuta first, not anyone else. That meant something, didn’t it?

“I’ve never felt unsafe around you.”

Yuta scoffs. “That’s not—it was about bringing danger around you—and can you even be sure I haven’t made you feel unsafe? I didn’t make your feelings feel very safe when I kept leaving or rejecting you, did I?”

“Is this about feelings or danger, Yuta? They’re different.”

“It all ends with you hurt, and I can’t stand that, alright?” Yuta puts his hands on Taeyong’s again to ease them off his thigh, done with his self-surgery.

“I wasn’t the one with the bullet in his leg, Yuta. You don’t think I’ll get hurt by seeing you hurt either?”

“I’m used to it.”

Taeyong stiffens and it’s his first clue as to how angry he is, at this, at Yuta. He jabs a finger at him. “You don’t get to decide that I’m okay with that. I’m not.”

The way Yuta looks at him in that moment is enough to send his heart racing, even in the middle of this mess that Taeyong doesn’t completely understand yet. His own voice softens. “Yuta, tell me what’s going on.”

Yuta sighs, and deflates with it. “This is going to sound—”

_Knock, knock._

Taeyong freezes. Yuta has his hand around his and is pulling him up, moving slowly, carefully. He doesn’t seem to make any noise while Taeyong feels like he suddenly doesn’t know how to walk anymore and barely manages to stop himself from tripping over his own feet.

Yuta brings him to his bedroom window, which Taeyong realizes for the first time, is open.

“Oh my god, is that how you got into my place to give me your key that one time?” Taeyong hisses. Yuta sends him a warning glance as there’s another knock on the door, this one harder and louder. If it had been any of his friends, they would’ve yelled at him to open up from the hallway if the door was locked.

 _Was_ the door locked? Taeyong couldn’t remember. The idea of those “cops” just waltzing in with nothing in their way gives Taeyong enough fear and adrenaline that he doesn’t think twice about crawling out his bedroom window and following Yuta down the metal fire escape outside of their building. He’d hung out on it once before but it was in an alleyway, there wasn’t anything exciting to look at except animals fighting in dumpsters and that just made Taeyong sad. He’d never thought he would actually use it like this.

A thunderous boom echoes and Taeyong almost falls off the railing and onto Yuta. He catches himself and pauses to look back up at his apartment window. There’s a head poking out of it—the man he talked to before and Taeyong barely has the decency to not cry out and ask what they did to his door when it was probably unlocked anyway!

Except then he saw it, the gun. Yuta must have as well because Taeyong is being yanked away as soon as they hit the ground and told to cover his ears.

Gunshots— _gunshots_ —ring out. Yuta is holding a _gun_ and Taeyong feels like he’s running through fog so dense he wouldn’t be surprised if he smacked into a wall, even if this is an area he’s known and lived in for years. 

Seeing Yuta’s car parked on the side of the road right outside the alleyway is like a light at the end of the tunnel. They both scramble towards it.

“Can you even _drive?!_ ” Taeyong points out when he feels that Yuta’s about to shove him into the passenger side. He implied _multiple_ bullets earlier—how much blood had the man lost?! And would fainting be a possibility? Taeyong wished he had kept up with his First Aid training. Not that they probably covered bullet wounds and car chases.

“I’m fine, get in the car!” Yuta is turned away from him, gun pointed towards the alley they just ran through.

Taeyong refuses. How is the man supposed to drive and shoot at the same time? Taeyong’s not useless. “I’m driving. Tell me where to go.”

“Taeyong—”

Gunshots ring out, not from Yuta but coming at them and they have no time to argue. Taeyong’s the one who shoves Yuta in the passenger side seat and runs over to the driver’s side. Yuta tosses him the keys and for the first time in his life, Taeyong rips out into the street like a reckless teenager with an endangerment kink. There’s no time to second-guess what he’s doing. He’s a fucking accomplice to a wounded guy with a gun.

To a wounded Yuta with a gun.

“I appreciate you wanting to do something,” Yuta is watching behind them. Taeyong glances at the rearview mirror and sees a truck speeding towards them. “But you need to speed the fuck up. Go left!”

“I’m not used to not obeying traffic laws, okay!” Taeyong presses on the gas and does a horrific turn on a red light. He’s lucky there wasn’t anyone crossing at the same time. God, he’s got no fucking clue why he did this, he’s the worst at racing games.

To be fair, Mario Kart has shells coming after you that you can defend with banana peels, and even if you _do_ get hit it only slows you down. Taeyong doesn’t play shit like GT-fucking-A, which would probably give him the most relevant experience for right now. 

“Can’t you—” Taeyong’s knuckles are white from how hard he grips the steering wheel, not budging even when his whole body jumps when he hears gunshots coming at them— _at them!_ “—shoot them or something?!”

“You’re _asking_ me to use my gun?” Yuta looks at Taeyong like he’s grown a second head. 

“Well, what the fuck do you have it for?!”

Yuta looks behind and points the gun at the truck chasing them. After a moment of not doing anything, he sighs, turning back to the front. “I can’t, I’m too shaky. Don’t wanna risk it, and it’ll blow your ears off.”

Taeyong’s shaking too, but he’d been so in his head that he hadn’t registered Yuta was getting weaker by the minute (though his ego is satisfied at knowing that taking the wheel was the better decision—even if he was fucking terrified).

“Please tell me we’re going somewhere that has help.” Taeyong’s voice is too soft for a man that’s just shrieked while running three red lights in a row. “I’m not letting you fucking die for this.”

Yuta has the gall to laugh. “You’re the one who’s inexperienced and leading a fucking car chase right now with guns involved and you’re worried about _me_ dying?”

“This isn’t funny!” It’s not, _it’s not_. Taeyong thinks he might start sobbing at any second, in fact! “I fucking care about you, Yuta. I worry all the fucking time and that was before I knew you were into—into— _crime_ or whatever the fuck this is!” Taeyong’s voice cracks as he accelerates. 

That wipes Yuta’s grin clean off his face. “I’m—I’m part of an organization. We have a rendezvous point where they’ll be. That’s where I’m bringing us.”

“And they’ll take care of you? They’re not going to hurt you?” Taeyong can’t risk looking over at him, he only just narrowly avoided a fucking crowd—luck is on his side today, even if that luck got him in a car chase in the first place.

Yuta takes a while to answer. “They won’t, it’s not like that. We’re technically government, remember?”

 _Remember?_ Taeyong had probably made some sort of joke about it, maybe, when Yuta had been secretive. “That doesn’t sound very convincing to me.”

“No, it doesn’t. I’m just trying to wrap my head around how terrified I am at how much you care about me.”

And that just breaks Taeyong’s heart.

“I don’t know who told you differently, Yuta—” Taeyong drifts and almost loses control when Yuta yells “Right!” and he continues even when his heart pounds so loudly he can’t hear anything else. “—but you deserve to be cared about.”

Yuta doesn’t respond, but Taeyong chalks that up to the sirens they can now hear blaring from somewhere behind them.

“Please don’t tell me that’s for us.”

Yuta is turned around in his seat, checking it out. “No, that’s our backup.”

Taeyong wants so badly to shut his eyes and count to three, to wake himself up from this dream. He can’t though, because it’s not a dream, and he’s really leading a fucking car chase while being shot at right now. The windows in Yuta’s car are shattered, the inside lining ripped up by grazed bullets and Taeyong can’t help but hope it’s paid for by work. What a weird thought when people are currently trying to kill the man you care about, and by extension, you.

Taeyong finds it another miracle that he hasn’t been shot yet, though that might be thanks to his erratic driving. He will surely jinx himself if he thinks about it though, so he shoves it out of his head and concentrates on not killing anyone innocent while following Yuta’s directions.

He soon realizes where they’re going, as glimpses of the water can be seen between the dwindling city buildings.

“Is the rendezvous point the shipping docks?”

Yuta looks at him, surprised. “Yeah.”

Taeyong snorts. “Typical, right out of a fucking spy movie.”

Yuta laughs—a laugh free of burden or pain, a laugh so pure that, for a few precious seconds, they can pretend they’re on a date, going to the harbour to watch the sunset. A wishful fantasy.

Reality, however, is Taeyong’s mouth open in a gasp, tears blinding him and he can’t see— _he can’t see_ and _fuck_ something hurts but he can’t feel it—his hand, _he can’t feel his hand_. Which hand? His right, he can’t feel his right—how is he still _driving_?—his left works, he can feel his left still gripping the wheel like a lifeline. Maybe it is. _Yuta_ —Yuta is shouting at him but Taeyong can’t hear anything because someone is screaming—screaming so loud it makes his toes curl and his ears ring.

Taeyong looks at the hand he can’t feel and it’s covered in blood and there’s a fucking _hole_ —

He gags, and the screaming stops.

“Don’t look at it Taeyong, don’t look at it. Look at the road, keep your eyes on the road.”

Taeyong looks at his hand again, but now it’s covered by Yuta’s, who holds it and keeps it gripped to the wheel, though Taeyong can’t feel any of it. What he can feel is his throat, scratchy and sore like a cat had raked its claws along the walls inside.

He looks to the road again, only to discover they aren’t on a city road anymore, they’re crashing through the entrance of the shipping docks and headed directly towards the edge, where the pavement drops off and there is just dark blue abyss, where the big shipping boats dock.

There is no boat, but there _are_ rushing waves slapping against concrete. Yuta pulls himself out of his seat and yanks the steering wheel to turn the car. Taeyong can barely think—what is the opposite of go? Oh right— _STOP_. He slams his foot on the brake and the car burns harsh lines into the pavement as it skids sideways towards the edge, stopping before it falls in, Yuta-side first. The lurch is so violent Taeyong smacks his head on what remains of the driver’s side door.

Everything stops. Everything is still. Yuta slides himself back into his own seat with barely concealed winces, but he doesn’t let go of Taeyong’s hand.

Taeyong takes a deep breath, then lurches forward and vomits between his feet.

Yuta still doesn’t let go.

Taeyong heaves, gasping big gulps of cold, salted air. It slowly calms him down.

In a voice he can barely recognize as his own, he says, “I hope they were smart enough to insure this car.”

He looks at Yuta, who shuts his eyes and leans his head back against his seat. Taeyong assumes Yuta squeezes his hand, though he still can’t feel anything going on there, but he's sure he will soon, as the adrenaline rushes away. He’ll feel the pain, but hopefully the warmth too.

“I have a bullet in my hand,” Taeyong says stupidly. Yuta’s eyes open and weirdly enough, looks like he wants to kiss Taeyong silly. Taeyong hopes he doesn’t do any of that—he needs to rinse his mouth out with soap.

Yuta now looks frail, tiny. His chest heaves and Taeyong realizes Yuta is having trouble breathing.

“Are you—where are your people? The rendezvous point—” Taeyong looks around frantically. Not too far ahead of them is a warehouse, where several sleek black cars are parked. There are men in black getup jogging towards them, while some men in suits stand and stare at their car.

Relief spreads through Taeyong, making him melt into his seat. Even if he still has no idea what’s going on or what’s going to happen, he knows somebody is going to help Yuta. He shuts his eyes, hoping just for one moment to have a second of rest.

He doesn’t see when the men whirl towards the entrance of the shipping docks and pull out their guns. He doesn't hear the shots, he doesn’t hear the motor of a truck getting louder, or the squealing of braking tires—the sound their own car had just made.

Taeyong has barely opened his eyes to see terror painted across Yuta’s face, looking at something beyond Taeyong. Yuta is pulling him forward, cradling Taeyong's head against his chest, pulling, pulling, pulling. Taeyong wants to sigh, to consume his entire being into Yuta’s warmth. He thinks he could fall asleep like this, for eternity, maybe. That would be nice.

Taeyong does not feel the crushing pressure of the truck slam into the car and push it off the edge. He does not hear Yuta scream his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so. it's been a while, huh.  
> a big thank you to everyone who's been encouraging me the past SEVEN months. I came down with the worst case of imposter syndrome, i-hate-everything-i-touch syndrome, extremely-hard-on-myself syndrome, and all of those other wonderful things that make you stop liking writing for extended periods of time. This fic has gone through several iterations that were all scrapped (actually one was lost but that was probably the universe scrapping it for me) until I got to this one, and boy am I in love with her. SO much so that I knew she needed more when I got closer and closer to my allotted 20k word count, so that's what I'm giving her. You don't give jokheiz an open prompt without her running her dirty little slow burn hands over it!  
> so see u next year  
> (that's a joke. hopefully.)
> 
> [ Twitter ](https://twitter.com/jokheiz)
> 
> [ Curious Cat ](https://curiouscat.me/jokheiz)


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